Blue, Lovely
by meggee
Summary: She showed me a world I never knew existed, one of Blue and lovely. But time and tragedy changed her, changed us, and in their place, left someone black and unrecognizable.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

**NOW**

All I can see are her fingers. Long, delicate, thin. High above her head, they dance in the air.

Fingers that, when we were five, caught lightening bugs with me in my backyard. Fingers that, when we were eleven, smashed birthday cake in my face. On the backs, planes of soft and smoothness cover bones so fragile I'm afraid that if she falls, she'll break into a million tiny pieces. No one watches her as she sways, hips bared by a skirt that hangs dangerously low. Midriff naked by a tank top that rises higher and higher. Her mother would've hated everything about her clothes and her dancing and this room and this party.

I want to go to her, tell her to pull her skirt up, yank her shirt down. Grab her hands and turn them palm up and see the callouses that come with years of guitar strumming and Lego building and bike riding.

But her fingers now cut lines instead of pluck chords, roll joints instead of write notes, and make tiny, innumerable cuts all over her skin that she thinks I won't see.

"This party's bullshit," Ben slumps down in the seat next to me.

He hands me another beer, taking a hit off his own. My eyes stay on her, watching as she stands alone, dancing atop a table in the middle of a room in a party that's bullshit.

"You're only saying that because no one will have sex with you," Alice, seemingly coming out of nowhere, sits on the arm of his chair.

"You had sex with me," he smiles up at her.

"If you could call three thrusts and some heavy panting 'sex,'" she shudders before turning to me, "Your groupies are looking for you."

I sink lower into my chair, bringing my hand up over my face. Alice calls them my groupies; they're just some girls I fucked once ...okay, maybe twice and now they're stuck on me like a hangnail I can't get rid of.

"Jesus," I hear Alice whisper, "Cullen, your neighbor is a freak."

I know, without having to ask, where her eyes are: exactly where mine were just seconds before.

"She is coked out of her mind," Ben laughs, taking another swig of his beer.

"Coked, baked, bombed, what isn't she?" Alice chimes in, "I think the last time I saw Ellie Swan sober was right before my dad took the training wheels off my Huffy."

I want to jump to her defense, to protect her somehow like she use to do for me when Mike Newton shoved me and my Osh Kosh overalls straight into the mud. But I'm done fighting for her, for Ellie, as she prefers to be called now. (Her mother would've hated that too.) I stopped caring the day she turned fifteen, the day I came home from a summer spent at my grandparents', and instead of finding my best friend, I found a hollow-eyed, skinny shell of a girl I once knew who took one look at me standing on her porch and told me to go fuck myself.

"How much longer do we have to stay here?" I finally add my two cents to the conversation.

I never wanted to come in the first place.

"At least another hour," Alice starts, "the captain of the football has to put in a legit appearance. You know, official high school party semantics. If we left now, the entire social hierarchy would fall apart and then where would we be? Jocks and nerds would be sitting at the same lunch table, computer geeks would be trying out for the basketball team, and cheerleaders would be blowing the debate team."

I guess I should mention that I am said captain of the football team. And Alice is a cheerleader, but why, I'll never know. When I first saw Ally, she was shoving some guy's head into a fence post because he made fun of her Doc Martens. Now she wears heels and leaves lipstick stains on cigarettes.

"I'm gonna go get another beer," I push myself up, leaving Ben and Alice to their own devices. The one I have isn't empty, and I know it's a flimsy excuse, but I need a moment to myself.

I make my way through the crowd, doing my best to avoid conversation. I squeeze my way past Tanya Denali dry humping Eric Yorkie, running back extraordinaire. Her skirt is hiked so far up, I can see crotch. But it wouldn't be the first time.

"Hey man," Eric gives me a knowing nod.

I grunt in acknowledgement, continuing on towards the kitchen. The crowd has gathered around the keg, with Mike Newton at the pump. There's no way I'm waiting in line to deal with that asshole. Instead, I grab a bottle of Jack off the counter and continue on to the back patio.

It burns as it goes down, but it feels good in the cool fall air. This is the last fall I will spend here in Forks, at least that's what I keep telling myself. I've played the part for four years now, the popular jock, all-American, takes out the garbage for his mom, studies hard, plays hard, too cool for a girlfriend but will fuck you behind your boyfriend's back. I've got the grades and extracurriculars to get me into any school I want and the reputation to leave a legacy behind.

But you want to know a secret, though? I don't care about any of it. I feel nothing.

I push the bottle to my lips, drinking until I can't taste the bitter anymore. When it's empty, I heave it out over the edge of the deck, yelling "Fuck!" as it crashes against a tree.

"Did it piss you off?"

I jump, startled at the sound of someone's voice other than my own. I know the voice, though it sounds different than it used to. It's deeper now, rough and raspy. It's the voice of someone who smokes too much and drinks too much and rarely ever sleeps.

"What?" I ask, confused.

Isabella Blue Swan stands in the shadows, like a scene straight from a movie, leaning against the side of the house. Smoke pours from her lips as she breathes out, her long, chestnut hair hanging limply around her face. She was once so much more, but now she's a shell, an empty box.

"The bottle, did it piss you off?" she asks again, but she doesn't laugh and I can't tell if she's being serious or cracking a joke.

This is the first conversation we've had since that day in September, when I was still just a boy and she was the girl I thought I knew.

"You're a mess," I say, before I can stop myself.

She laughs then, her laugh as thick as the smoke surrounding her. She takes another drag off her cigarette, it's long and drawn out and I don't know if she's coming up for air. But she does and she drops the cigarette on the deck, putting it out with her flip flops-shoes that she should've stopped wearing back in August when the warmth went away. I suppose it's the closest she can get to being barefoot at this age and get away with it.

She takes a moment, looking down at her feet. The music from the party is thumping around us, filling the silence that has encased us for three years now. She finally looks up and takes a small step towards me. It's the closest we've been to each other in so long and I can finally see her eyes. They're brown and dead and bloodshot and have seen more than I could ever imagine.

She doesn't look away for seconds and I know she knows it's making me uncomfortable.

"We're all a mess, Cullen," and then she's gone just as quickly and quietly as she appeared.

**THEN**

"Edward, don't go too far, I won't be able to see you!" my mother yells from the porch.

But I'm already running around the yard, making claim on the grass, the trees, the pond that sits in the south side of the back lawn. My parents have moved us to a new state, a new town, a new house. It's a bit overwhelming for a 5 year old, but I'm optimistic. Our new house is huge and mom says we can build a tree house in the backyard. Dad got some big fancy promotion and now there's big fancy clothes and big fancy cars that sit in a big fancy garage in a neighborhood full of big fancy houses.

I make my way towards the pond dock, glancing back over my shoulder to see if my mother is paying attention. I don't want to get yelled at for standing too close to the water, which to her is anywhere near the water. Mom is overprotective.

I'm just starting to plan all the games and adventures I'll be able to have in my newfound territory when I hear a rustling noise to my left. I slowly make my way over to the woods that line the south side, a nervous feeling growing inside. Who knows what could be out here? I've never been somewhere that has so many trees and mountains and unknown. Dad says there's wolves here and bears and something called an elk, that I think he might've made up.

"Who's there?" I yell into the trees.

There's more rustling.

"I said, who's there?"

More rustling, then silence. I'm about to yell again when a little girl appears, walking slowly out of the forest. Her hair is down, with wild brown curls everywhere. She's wearing a pink dress that's smudged with dirt and grass stains, her feet are bare, caked in mud and she's holding something in her little hands. When she smiles at me, I can see one of her front teeth is missing.

"Look!" she holds it up for me to see, like it's a trophy she's showing off.

I walk over, having established that she's much less a threat than the wolves, and see a baby frog sitting contently within her hands.

"This is the best place to catch 'em," she grins that toothless grin, offering me the frog.

I nod uneasily, taking it, though not sure how I feel about this shoeless girl and her amphibian (I learned that word last week and am very happy at the opportunity to use it).

"You're new," she prattles on, ignoring the fact that I have yet to say anything, "I'm Isabella. My mama calls me Bella Blue cause that's my middle name and blue is her favorite color, but everyone else just calls me Bella. You can call me Bella Blue though, cause I like you. What's your name?"

"Edward Cullen," I sputter.

"Edward Cullen?" she sounds it out, "Edward. That sounds like an old person's name."

I roll my eyes, having heard the same thing many times before.

"I tried to get my parents to change it, but they're pretty stuck on it for some reason," I explain.

"I like it," she smiles again, "Do you want to be my friend, Edward?"

I shrug. She seems harmless enough and I'm not exactly in any position to turn down friends, having just moved here literally five minutes ago.

"I live over there," she points through the woods, "it's the blue house on the other side of the trees. It's not nearly as big as your house, your house is like a castle."

"Edward Anthony Cullen!" my mother's voice carries across the yard.

I know I'm in trouble, she only uses my full name when I'm in trouble.

"Uh oh," Bella says under breath. She must know the full name rule too.

"I'm over here mom," I yell back, waving my arms so she'll see.

She looks angry as she comes towards us, not seeing Bella standing off to the side.

"Edward, I told you to stay where I could see you," she starts.

"Mom, this is Bella," I say, alerting her that we have company. Mom says it's not polite to air our dirty laundry in public. I use to think she meant real laundry, but now I know it means when she yells at me in front of other people.

"Bella Blue, ma'am," Bella sticks her little hand out for my mother to shake, "blue like the color."

My mother takes one look at this hopeless little girl, with her ruined curls and Sunday dress, and I swear I see her fall in love with Bella right before my eyes.

"Why, hello there Bella Blue," mom crouches down to our level, a giant smile plastered on her face, "I'm Esme, Edward's mother."

"My mama told me I'm not allowed to call adults by their real names," Bella says matter-of-factly, "she says it's unrespectful."

"Disrespectful," my mother corrects, "and I'm giving you my permission to call me by my real name."

"Esme," she tests it out, "Esme, can Edward play with me? We're catching frogs."

"I'm afraid Edward has a lot of unpacking to help with, but maybe later, Bella Blue," mom winks at her.

Bella nods, turning to me, "Can I have my frog back?"

I forgot for a moment that I was still holding it. I gently place it into her hands and she immediately places it into the pocket on her skirt.

"Shouldn't you be wearing shoes, Bella Blue? It's a little chilly out," mom asks, ever the worrywart.

Bella looks down at her feet, then over at mine. It's like she just now realized how odd it is that she isn't wearing any shoes when the two of us are.

"Mama's fixing a hole in the bottom," she responds, "she says I wore one clear through and she's not about to buy me another pair if I'm going to keep running around barefoot anyway."

"You only have one pair of shoes?" my mother asks, incredulous.

"Oh, don't worry, ma'am," she reassures, "they're a very nice pair of shoes."

My mother has a look in her eyes that I can't identify, but I know it has something to do with Bella and her shoes.

"Well Edward, I'm gonna go put the frog in the bathtub so he can hop around," Bella turns to leave, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Esme." She does more of a bow than a curtsy and runs off back into the trees.

"What an odd little girl," my mother laughs, placing her hand over my shoulders and leading us back into the house.

"I like her," I say, looking back at the spot she stood only moments ago.

"I like her too."

* * *

Bella's house is instantly recognizable. True to her word, it's blue. Not just blue, but bright blue, with a blue door and blue shutters. There's a bunch of cool stuff in her front yard too, like an old tire, a bunch of neat old car parts, and toys I'm assuming are Bella's.

"Look how tiny it is, mom, it's like a dollhouse," I whisper to my mom as we make our way to the door.

"Edward, don't say things like that, it's rude."

"How is it rude? It's true," I question.

"Honey," she stops us right before we go up to the door, "some people aren't as fortunate as you, but it doesn't make them any less special. But we need to make sure we don't brag or gloat because we do have more, your privilege gives you a responsibility."

I'm about to ask her what the heck she's talking about when the door in front of us swings open and there stands Bella Swan, stark nude in nothing but her unders.

"Hello Esme!" she says happily, flashing that missing tooth.

"Isabella Blue Swan!" a woman's voice yells from somewhere behind her.

Oh yeah, she definitely knows the full name rule.

"You go put some clothes on right this minute," a thin, pretty woman appears behind Bella, "I told you, no more answering the door in your panties."

"I forgot, ma!" Bella explains, running back inside the house.

The woman turns to us, an apologetic look in her eyes, "I am so sorry about that, I keep telling her she can't be running around naked, but I can't quite get her to actually listen."

"Say no more, this one takes his pants off the second we walk in the door of our house," my mom ruffles my hair.

"Moooooom," I whine.

"I'm Esme Cullen," she ignores me, "this is Edward. We moved in across the woods there."

"Oh yes, I'm Renee Swan. Blue was going on and on about the two of you earlier. I'm sorry about that, I tell her to stay near the house when she plays, but she somehow always manages to find her way over to your pond."

"It's no problem, it was nice meeting a friend for Edward on our first day here," mom smiles.

There's an awkward pause.

"Where are my manners, why don't you two come on in," Mrs. Swan moves aside to let us in.

The house is just as tiny on the inside as the outside. There's a small seating area with a flower-covered couch and a television that looks like the same one my grandparents have in their basement. Behind the couch is a curtain, serving as a divider to a make-shift room. I know this because Bella pulls the curtain back, revealing a little bed and dresser. I want to say how cool it is to get to sleep in your living room, but mom's hand on my shoulder keeps my mouth shut.

"Why don't you two have a seat on the couch, I'll see what I have in the kitchen," Mrs. Swan avoids eye contact with my mother, but I don't understand why.

Mom and I sit while Bella dances around the room. I've never seen anyone so full of energy before.

"I'm going to be a ballerina one day," she says breathlessly.

"Well, you're a very good dancer," mom laughs.

"I practiced all summer. Mama says if we can afford it, she'll put me in dance class this year."

We sit in silence, watching as she hops around the room. Renee comes back in holding a plate full of cookies.

"Cookies!" Bella squeals, "Mama, I thought you said these were for—"

"Quiet now, Blue," her mother cuts her off, "we have guests and guests deserve cookies. Especially little boy guests who are as handsome as your friend Edward."

I take a cookie from the plate, thanking Mrs. Swan as I do. Biting into it, I'm instantly hit with the realization that this is the best cookie I've ever had in my life.

"This is the best cookie I've ever had in my life," I say out loud.

Both the women start laughing at my admission.

"Thank you, Edward," Bella's mom beams, "Bella Blue, why don't you go show Edward your clubhouse in the backyard while I talk with his mommy."

Bella runs over, dressed in the same pink stained dress as before, and grabs my hand. Before I can open my mouth, she's dragging me outside.

"Come on, Edward, you gotta see it!" she says excitedly.

She takes me to around the side of the house and soon I see the "clubhouse" her mother was referring to. It's more like a bunch of wooden sheets nailed together with a blue tarp over top.

"My daddy helped me build it," she pulls me inside the make-shift door of the clubhouse, "we spent all day on it and I got to use a hammer."

I don't understand what she's so excited about, this place is crappy. The floor is all mud and the walls are a splinter disaster waiting to happen.

"You spent all day on this?" I ask.

She nods enthusiastically, sitting straight down on the muddy ground.

"This place is gross," I say, looking around the small space, "and you're sitting in a giant puddle of mud, you're going to ruin your clothes."

"It's not gross," she frowns, "and it's just mud, it never hurt no one."

"This isn't even a real clubhouse, there's no windows or nothing," I continue, "and why do you sleep in your living room? That's weird. And your house is small. And blue. And why don't you ever wear any shoes? Can't your daddy afford to buy you new shoes?"

For a moment she looks like she might cry and I start to feel a tiny bit bad, but not bad enough to take back what I said. Her little brown eyes water up, but before they spill over, her face switches to a look I only see on my mom's face when my dad comes home late and misses dinner. Before I can react to her sudden mood change, her fist lands hard and fast across my cheek.

"You punched me," I'm stunned.

"You had it coming," she spits, "I hate you, Edward Cullen and I'll hate you forever!"

She runs off, the little wooden door slamming behind her. All I can do is stare after her, with my hand resting on my sore cheek, and think this is the last I'll ever see of Isabella Blue Swan.

**NOW**

I smile at the memory. That definitely wasn't the last time I saw Bella Blue or her fist. And despite her declaration to hate me forever, we somehow became best friends. It was Blue who taught me what struggle is and that poor exists and that stealing is sometimes the only means of survival.

And on a cold, fall afternoon day when pot was still just something you put spaghetti in, it was Blue who showed me that you can be the best kind of person in the world, but it still won't save your mama.

"Cullen!" Ben yells at me from somewhere inside the house, "Come on, Alice gave us permission to leave!"

I look back at the woods one more time before pushing off the deck rail and heading back inside. The party has gotten even more crowded in the short time I've been outside. The entire senior class has managed to cram themselves into Tyler Crawley's house. The air is laced with cheap liquor and marijuana, a smell I zero in on immediately when I spot James Harvey camped out in the dining room. He's using the table as his own personal display case. Every type of pill, powder, and plant laid out before him. James is here to work.

"Hold up," I yell to Ben, making a U-turn towards James.

I wouldn't exactly call us friends, but I'm no stranger to James and his bag of tricks. Never one for the hard stuff, but I score my pot from him on a regular basis.

"Cullen," he says without even looking up, "what can I do for you?"

"The usual," I reach into my pocket, sliding a small wad of bills across the table.

Before he can respond, Rosalie Hale, a sliver of a girl, comes sauntering up. She says nothing, but somehow James knows exactly what she wants. He hands her a small bag of pills, but no money is exchanged. She pays for her escape in a different way.

Rosalie Hale moved to Forks about three years ago. She was insanely hot, curves in all the right places, blonde bombshell. Now she's sad and quiet and destroyed.

Drugs will do that to a person.

But I don't pity her at all, I welcome her demise. She's the one who introduced the drugs and the destruction. She's the one who took a Blue away and left behind an Ellie.

"Here," James hands her a small vial, "for Swan."

There's a nod and then she's gone and I wonder how Ellie pays for _her_ escape.

"Dude, come on," Ben appears at my side, "let's get the hell out of here."

I grab the bag of weed off the table as he practically drags me out of the dining room. We push passed the basketball team playing beer pong and the glee club doing body shots and find ourselves in the corridor leading to the front door.

"Shit, I lost Alice, wait here," Ben says quickly and then disappears back into the crowd.

I pull my coat tighter, anticipating the cool air that lies ahead of me. When I see Alice's head bobbing through the throng of people, making her way over, I turn to open the door. My eye, however, is caught on a sparkle coming from the living room. It's attached to a chain that hangs around the neck of Ellie Swan. I gave it to her when we were twelve and she was Bella and Blue and perfect in every way.

And now she wears it as she leans over a table with a rolled up twenty and snorts away everything her mother wanted her to be. And when she comes up for air, she looks at me but sees nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**THEN**

The walk to Blue's house is a short one, but requires a trek through the woods. It's like two different worlds, the journey between my world and Bella's. My neighborhood is all cut grass and green and flowers and smiles. Blue's is like death to my life. Coming out of the woods, it's dark and brown and there are dogs that run around with no leashes and houses with boards on the windows. Blue told me my neighborhood use to be just another part of the woods, but a few years ago someone came in and started tearing down all the trees and planting giant houses in their place.

Mom tells me to be careful when I walk to Bella's, but I don't know if she means because of the wolves or the guys in hoodies who sometimes park near the abandoned houses.

"She's out in the clubhouse, Edward," Mrs. Swan greets me on the front porch.

"Thanks!" I take off towards the backyard.

"Edward!" she yells after me.

I stop in my tracks, turning to face her.

"Before you go back there, I just wanted to let you know that Blue is a little upset today," she warns, "we couldn't put her in dance class."

She isn't looking me in the eyes, it's the same way she looks at—or doesn't look at, I should say—my mother. I really like Mrs. Swan, she's nice and gives me cookies, but she always seems so sad.

I nod at her, continuing on my way to the back. I find Blue huddled in the corner of the clubhouse, barefoot and, for the first time, wearing pants rather than a dress. I don't know much about girls, but I know they cry pretty easily. My cousin Mary cries all the time, especially when I take my toys from her.

Blue isn't crying though. She sits in the corner, feet pulled to her chest, staring down. She says nothing when I walk in, not even bothering to look up.

"Hey," I say warily, I don't want to make her cry.

"Hi," she says quietly.

I stand here awkwardly, not sure what to do now.

"Sorry you didn't get into dance class," I blurt out.

She laughs, sounding much older than her five years.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," she whispers, looking down at her feet still.

"Blue?" I walk towards her, putting my hand on her shoulder.

She looks up at me and I think I've never seen someone so young with such hard eyes.

"Daddy and mama got into a fight," she says, looking away at the wall, "Daddy said I could take dance class or we could have heat this month."

I don't understand what she means.

"You should go home, Edward," her voice is flat and lifeless.

I want to protest, to say it's early and we still have so much time to play. But the way that she looks, the way she's un-Bluelike. . . I want to ask her why she's not smiling and laughing and running around and catching frogs.

"Go," she repeats.

I wait for her to at least look at me, but she never does. Finally, I give up and go, trudging the path back to my own home. I don't understand why Blue's daddy would say that, what he could've meant.

I run into the house, straight to the kitchen to find my mom standing over the counter, flipping through a magazine.

"Hey baby," she smiles over at me.

"Hey mom," I climb onto the bar stool in front of her.

"You're home early," she comments.

I say nothing in response, and instead there's a silence as she turns page after page.

"Mom," I start.

"Hmm?" she asks, not looking up.

"Bella's daddy said she can't take dance classes."

She's only half-listening as I speak, looking at something on the page.

"He said she could take dance classes or they could have heat," I continue, "what does that mean?"

This stops my mother. She puts her hand up to her mouth, slowly closing the magazine. She comes around the island to stand next to me, running her fingers through my hair.

"Sweetie," she starts, "who told you that?"

"Blue. She's sad."

Mom stares at me, as if she doesn't want to tell me something, doesn't want to pull the shade of innocence from my eyes.

"Remember how I was telling you that some people aren't as fortunate as us?" she asks.

I nod.

"Well honey, Blue's family has struggles that we don't," she continues, "and those struggles include making sacrifices on some luxuries so that they can afford things like heat and food."

"Heat costs money? Why don't they just start a fire then?"

She smiles.

"Edward, one day you'll learn that most everything costs money. We're lucky that daddy does very well with his job and that we can afford heat and food and even dance classes, if you want them."

"I don't want dance classes," I interrupt.

"I know," she laughs, "but I'm saying that we could provide you with them if you wanted them."

I still don't understand what she's getting at, but I nod anyway.

"You don't understand," she replies, reading my mind, "but one day you will, Edward."

**NOW**

I find myself counting the Mondays, each one passing in a dismal haze of tests and football games and too much booze. Novembers in Forks are especially depressing, not just because of the weather but because of the depressing realization of what lays ahead: months and months of cold and wet and gray. The only thing getting me through this Monday in this November is the knowledge that this will be the last time I will ever have to go through it.

"Ellie Swan?" my thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Landon's voice from the front of the class.

Silence.

"No Ellie Swan?" he asks before muttering under his breath, "Surprise, surprise."

It goes without saying that Ellie Swan is not a regular participant in class discussions or a regular in attending class in general. When she does decide to show up, she says nothing. She sits in the back and sleeps. At first, Mr. Landon fought with her stay awake, to participate—you know, teacher of the year stuff. Eventually, he realized it was a lost cause and gave up on her, because everyone gives up on Ellie Swan.

Normally her absence wouldn't even be a blip on my radar, but something about the way she looked at me that night, the empty void of a best friend that once was, there's a blip.

There's another blip when she's still not in class on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and Friday. She usually makes one appearance in class per week, to keep Mr. Landon from calling her father, I assume.

"What is this suppose to be again?" Alice asks, poking her fork into the Lunch Lady's Special that finds its way onto our plates every Friday.

"I told you, it's just the leftovers from the rest of the week," Ben shovels his own questionable entrée into his mouth without so much as a blink.

I laugh, taking a swig of my Gatorade. We should've gone out for lunch. But then again, I say the same thing every Friday and every Friday, I find myself in this exact situation.

"So," Alice starts, "this is what meatloaf, pizza, Salisbury steak, and macaroni and cheese look like when combined into one giant heap. I always wondered."

I laugh, taking another gulp from the bottle. A flash of blonde and cigarette smoke hits my senses from the left.

Rosalie Hale.

I've never spoken one word to Rose in the three years we've been classmates, but I suddenly find myself out of my seat, following behind her as she exits the cafeteria.

"Yo, Edward!" Ben calls after me.

I ignore him, catching up with her as she enters the girls' bathroom across the hall. I hesitate for a moment, debating on whether to go in or not. It certainly wouldn't be the first time I was in this bathroom-Jessica Stanley could attest to that.

"Fuck it," I mutter, pushing the door open.

Rosalie isn't shocked to see me. Or, if she is, she doesn't show it. She sits up on one of the sinks, legs propped up, cigarette in mouth. She looks at me briefly, then continues lighting a match.

"To what do I owe this honor?" the cigarette between her lips muffles her voice.

"I, uh, I…," I stop, not really knowing what I mean to say.

She takes a long drag, and then very slowly and deliberately gives me a once-over.

"I think you have the wrong bathroom," smoke surrounds her, "none of your little sluts are in here."

I'm taken aback by her bluntness. Not that I didn't expect it, but having it directed at me, it's startling.

"That's not what I… I didn't come in here for that," I stutter, hating myself for it.

She just rolls her eyes, forgetting me as she starts digging through her bag.

"I wanted to ask you about Blue," I lean against the wall.

"Blue?" she asks, not looking up from her mission of finding whatever the hell it is that she's looking for.

"Bel-," I start, "Ellie. Ellie Swan."

She stops, looking up at me, confused.

"Why do you care about Ellie?" she asks.

Clearly Bella never mentioned me or our friendship to Rosalie. It doesn't surprise me, but it still makes my stomach drop. Rose came in the summer I was gone, the summer everything changed, the summer Blue became black.

"I don't," I lie, "Her and I are neighbors. My mom said she hasn't seen Ellie around for the past week and she's worried. She made me promise to ask around."

I can tell by the way she looks at me that she's trying to decide if I'm bullshitting her or not. Seconds that feel like minutes pass. She finishes her cigarette and immediately goes to light another one.

"Don't know."

"What do you mean?" I ask, the smell of smoke becoming suffocating in the small, enclosed space.

"Don't. Know."

"You mean, you don't know where she is? Aren't you supposed to be best friends?" I try to keep my voice cool, uninterested.

"Yeah," she laughs, "every Friday night we have slumber parties and braid each other's hair while baking cupcakes."

I run my fingers through my hair, growing more and more frustrated.

"Whatever, I don't care," I give up, turning to the door.

"Hey," her voice stops me.

I turn around, expecting another snide comment, but when I look at her I can see mild concern in her eyes.

"I don't know where she is, I haven't heard talked to her since last Friday. We met some guys at that party at Lauren's house and she took off with one of them. I got a text from her on Wednesday, but that was it."

The way her voice waivers at the end makes me even more concerned than I was to begin with. Rosalie isn't the type of girl to show anyone she gives a fuck.

"So you just let her go off with some random guy she just met when she was clearly coked out of her mind?" I ask in disbelief.

There's a split second where I can see the shame and embarrassment on her face before it's wiped clean and, in its place, is the bored disinterest that usually occupies it.

"I'm not her fucking babysitter," she spits, taking a drag, "Ellie is more than capable of making her own decisions, trust me. She's more capable than you'd ever know."

I laugh bitterly, shaking my head as I turn to leave.

"Rosalie," I say, not bothering to turn to face her.

Her grunt lets me know that she's actually listening.

"What did the text say?" I ask, staring ahead at the door.

"This is the end."

**THEN**

Blue's sixth birthday is at the park where our neighborhoods meet. Well, it's closer to mine, really. It was built around the same time as my house, so it's still shiny and new. The jungle gym is huge and I can't wait to climb to the top.

Mom and I walk towards the lot and see a group of kids I've never met. There are a few balloons and a cake that sit on the lone picnic table. Blue, in typical fashion, is hanging upside from the monkey bars with her skirt hanging down, covering her face.

"Isabella!" her mother yells, "Get down from there, your unders are showing!"

I hear mom chuckle beside me as we approach the playground. There are other moms sitting around, watching their kids as they run around.

"Can I go on the jungle gym?" I ask sweetly, hoping she won't be her usual, overprotective self.

"I don't know…," she hesitates.

"Please Esme, please," Bella has made her way over to us and attached herself to my mother's leg.

Mom can never resist Blue, I know from a previous experience that involves a lot of ice cream.

"Oh, alright. But no running. Or jumping," she says, but we're already sprinting towards the giant metal contraption.

"Happy birthday, Blue," I tell her as we begin our climb.

"Race you to the top!" she ignores my comment, already speeding ahead of me, like always.

An hour later, exhausted and starving, we gather around the picnic table, eating cake and watching Blue open presents.

"I got her a new Barbie, " a girl by the name of Alice stands next to me, talking to another girl whose name I can't remember.

I want to tell her that Blue hates Barbie and that it's an awful present, but mom says if I don't have anything nice to say, don't say nothing at all.

"Here you go, Bella, this one is from me," Emmett, a boy I recognize from my neighborhood, throws a package at her that looks like he just wrapped up a basketball.

I go over to stand by my mom, who is talking with Mrs. Swan.

"Mom," I interrupt their conversation, "can we give Blue our present next?"

"Edward Anthony, you know better than to interrupt," she tries to scold me, but I can see she's fighting a smile.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Swan, I'm just real excited to give Blue her gift," I apologize, giving her the smile my grandma says is going to break a lot of hearts one day. I don't know what that means, but it usually seems to get me what I want.

"It's okay Edward, go on ahead," she pats me on the head, then gives me a little nudge in Bella's direction.

Mom follows behind me, carrying the big box I helped wrap this morning. Dad and I picked it out last week and I've never been so excited in my life. I knew the second I saw it in the store window at the mall in Port Angeles, it was the most perfect gift ever.

"Blue, look what Edward has for you," Mrs. Swan calls out, and Blue's eyes immediately find me in the small crowd.

Her face lights up when she looks at the big box in mom's hands.

"What is it?" she asks excitedly.

"You have to open it to find out, silly," I say as the present is laid down before her on the table.

She looks at me for a second before opening it, a look that only Blue and I share, and then begins tearing the wrapping paper off.

"Oh my gosh!" she squeals.

"What is it?" Emmett asks from the end of the table.

Her mom helps her prop up the box to show everyone.

"It's a guitar!" she yells, "This is the greatest present ever!"

Everyone laughs at her excitement.

"Thanks Edward," she throws her arms around me, pulling me close. I've never hugged a girl before and it throws me off a little.

"I just thought, you know, since you couldn't join that class you could make your own music to dance to," I whisper to her so low I think only she can hear my words, but when I look up at Mrs. Swan, I see a single tear roll down her cheek.

* * *

Let me know what you think. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**NOW**

"Cullen, focus!" Coach Summers yells at me from across the field.

"Dude," Emmett says, punching my shoulder, "get your head in the game. You almost got sacked back there."

I shake my thoughts off, looking around to see all of my teammates' eyes on me. My head has been somewhere far away from here, from this field, this town.

"Sorry," I apologize before running to take my position.

I hear a few mutters, mostly curse words, as I pass some of the other players. They're pissed, and rightly so. We have a huge game coming up and I can't get my focus on running the plays. Sunday practices are usually spent hungover, with me attempting not to puke with every call Coach makes. This Sunday, however, I'm stone sober and clear—or at least, I should be considering I didn't partake in any of this weekend's festivities.

An hour and three instances of me getting knocked on my ass later, coach finally takes mercy and decides to call it a day.

"Edward," Summers calls to me as we head towards the locker room.

I jog over, already knowing a lecture awaits me.

"Sorry Coach, I know I sucked today, I just have a lot on my mind," I'm already explaining by the time I reach him.

"Eh," he cuts me off, "I don't care, I don't wanna hear it. Just whatever it is, get it figured out by Friday. You know there's going to be recruiters there, Edward."

"I know, and I will," I promise.

He pats me on the back, leaving me to stand alone on the field. I take a few moments before heading into the locker room, where I will no doubt be met with a ticked off group of football players.

"… she's like that chick from that movie where the girl starts stalking the guy after he bangs her," I hear Mike Newton's voice as I enter.

"Fatal Attraction?" Ben asks.

"What's that?" Newton responds.

"Swinfan?" Tyler throws in.

"Yes!" Newton high-fives him, "So I banged her and now she won't leave me the fuck alone."

"Who are we talking about?" I ask Emmett as I sit down on the bench in front of my locker.

"Jessica Stanley," he answers, mouth full of protein bar.

I nod, knowingly. I think Jessica has been with every straight male above the age of 16 and below the age of 30 in the town of Forks.

Thankfully, Mike's little woe-is-me show he's putting on has distracted the rest of the team and I'm able to sneak into the showers with little notice.

"Get it together," I yell at myself, lathering the shampoo through my hair furiously.

* * *

Monday comes and with it, the determination to get back on track and power through the rest of this school year with little to no distractions.

"Alright, I hope you all did the reading over the weekend because guess what, pop quiz!" Mr. Landon holds up a stack of papers, a giant smile on his face.

Of course I failed to do any of the reading this weekend, I was too busy sulking in my own combination of worry and denial of worry for one person: Blue. The more I tried to forget her, the more I couldn't stop remembering the past, everything that we'd been through together. I realized that I miss her, more than I was ever before willing to allow myself to feel.

And just like she is reading my mind, like she always could, she appears in the doorway of the classroom.

"Well, Ms. Swan, what a pleasure," Mr. Landon greets her, "I'm so happy you finally decided to make an appearance."

She says nothing, but walks to her spot on the opposite side of the room from me. She is impossibly thin, thinner than I've ever seen her before. Even when things were particularly rough at home, her mother always made sure that Blue never went hungry. My own mother always had me bringing over a casserole or some other food dish she made under the guise that we had leftovers, when really she just wanted to make sure the Swans were taken care of.

But this Blue, this Ellie, she doesn't need food, or want it. She stands next to her desk in jeans that maybe once fit but now hang loosely. In a shirt that covers, under a sweater that hides. Her dark hair is pulled into a haphazard ponytail, her cheeks hollowed out, her eyes dead dead dead.

"You have ten minutes," Landon is saying, passing out the quizzes to each row of desks.

Ellie leans down to her bag and pulls out a pencil, her sweater sliding off one of her shoulders as she does. And there, on a canvas of pale, translucent skin, are five distinct bruises that can be nothing other than marks left by five fingertips pressing deeper and deeper. Black and purple and, of course, blue.

She reads over the test paper and then begins writing furiously. I seriously doubt Ellie did the reading either, but Bella Blue is a smart girl. No, that's putting it too lightly. Blue is a genius, literally. When we were in elementary school, they made us all take an IQ test. While I scored above average, Blue was off the charts. They called in specialists and there was even talk of skipping her ahead a few grades so she would be at an adequate educational level. She refused though, said she'd only go if they let me come with her. When that was inevitably shot down, she stood in front of all those highly-paid trained specialists, looked them right in the eye and said, "I ain't going nowhere without Edward and you can't make me."

I wonder if she remembers that moment, remembers that little girl with that dirt-stained pink dress and no shoes who stood by pond and gave me a frog.

"Mr. Cullen?" Mr. Landon stands over me, hand out, awaiting my quiz.

In my observance of Ellie, I have lost track of the ten minutes we had to fill out the quiz. I begrudgingly hand him the answerless piece of paper.

Oh well, I would've failed either way.

Ellie shows up to class every day this week, and each day her face becomes a little less clouded, her skin a little more lifelike. She hands in all of her work on time, she sits with Rosalie in the cafeteria, and on Friday, I actually see her laugh.

"And why aren't you wearing your uniform, Ms. Brandon?" Ben asks Alice as we make our way to our usual lunch table.

We pass a group of cheerleaders as we do, and they all give Alice a disapproving frown.

"I'm not wearing that thing unless I absolutely have to and there is no law in Cheerleader Land that says I have to wear my uniform to school on game days," she explains, "Trust me, I made sure."

"Is there a rule book?" I ask, trying to keep a straight face.

"There is!" she says, excitedly, "It's full of fun things like color approved hair scrunchiis and where to buy your spankies."

"Spankies?" I spit out my Gatorade.

"Yeah, spankies," she says, like it's common knowledge, like everyone knows what the hell spankies are.

"It's what they wear underneath their skirts over their underwear," Ben explains.

We both look at him in disbelief.

"What? I have little sisters," he shrugs, popping a fry into his mouth.

"Yeah, "little sisters,"" Alice air quotes, "That's how you know what spankies are. It has nothing to do with the fact that you've nailed half the cheerleading squad."

"Nope," he smiles, "And p.s. sometimes that's all they wear underneath their skirts."

"Ew, god," Alice grimaces, "I hope to hell you're talking about the girls on my squad you banged and not your sisters."

"Sick, Alice," he throws a fry at her.

I laugh at the two of them as they bicker back and forth.

"Dudes," Emmett pulls up a chair, sitting backwards on it, "party, my place, tonight after we destroy Camden."

"Your parents gone?" I ask because Emmett never has parties at his house.

"They went to visit my grandparents in southern California for a long weekend," he smiles, looking completely oversized for the chair he's in.

Emmett's house is down the street from my own. His dad is a big hot shot lawyer with a bunch of different law firm branches in Port Angeles, Seattle, and Tacoma. Why his father decided to settle down in Forks, I'll never understand; but his parents and mine have been friends for as long as I can remember.

"Your mom is going to flip her shit if she comes home to a destroyed house," Alice states, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I already hired a cleaning crew to come in on Saturday," he responds, clearly very proud of himself and his foresight.

"It's your funeral. . ." she shrugs.

"So I'll see you there?" he asks, standing up.

"Of course," she answers, never one to miss a party.

"Fantastic!" he claps his hands victoriously, "Ben? Edward?"

"Yeah," Ben responds.

I nod, laughing at his enthusiasm.

"Later!" and he's off, towards another table, another victim. "Rosie!"

I realize it's Rosalie and Ellie's table that he's headed to, but before I have a chance to hear what he says, Victoria Singer appears in front of me.

"Hey Edward," she smiles that smile that has gotten me into trouble more than once.

"Hey yourself," I am aloof.

"Where have you been? We've missed you," she points behind her to a table full of cheerleaders, all of them in uniform.

"What are you talking about, Vic? I haven't been anywhere," I roll my eyes at her.

"You know what I mean," she pulls a chair up in front of me and plops down, "I've missed you. I had the squad and team over the other night, but you never showed."

"I wasn't there either," Ben chimes in.

She ignores him, "It was lonely without you."

I can't help but laugh at her faux-sadness.

"I'm sure you were more than able to find someone to fill that lonely void," I remark, leaning away from her.

"Edward," she sticks out her bottom lip, "no one fills the void like you."

Alice makes gagging noises in the chair next to me.

I look at Victoria, beautiful and full of life and practically begging me to fuck her. Then I look over at Bella, who is too skinny and tired and taking a small bag of pills from Rose's hands.

"I'll see you tonight after the game," I lean in as close to her as I can, whispering in her ear.

**THEN**

"Play me something, Blue," I kick the water, splashing her and earning a squeal.

We're sitting on the dock of the pond, trying to pretend that it's not a million degrees out and we're not hot and sweaty and bored.

"Promise not to splash me again and I will," she says, strumming a few chords on her guitar.

I put my hand over my heart, "Scout's honor."

She laughs, tipping her head back in thought as she thinks of a song to play. We're nine now and in the three years she's had it, Bella has mastered the guitar. Dad calls her a natural, able to pick up any tune within seconds of hearing it.

She slowly starts playing chords I don't immediately recognize.

"What would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me?" she sings softly, "Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song, I will try not to sing out of key."

Mom says Blue has a voice beyond her years. It's low and raspy and sounds like it belongs to someone else.

"What do I do when my love is away? Does it worry you to be alone?" her voice is low, her eyes closed, "How do I feel at the end of the day? Are you sad 'cause you're on your own?"

There's just the water and the sun and the guitar and Blue.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" she asks after strumming the last chord.

I look over at her, eyes are still closed, head raised towards the sun.

"I don't know, a doctor like my dad, I guess," I shrug, never having given the future much thought.

A smile passes over her lips. Bella loves my father, almost as much as her own. Mr. Swan is always off working, though; construction, logging, cooking down at the diner. Anything to keep the electricity running and food on the table. In the time that I've known her, I think I've only seen Bella's dad a handful of times, but there is absolutely no one else she adores more.

"What about you, Blue? What do you want to be when you grow up?"

She stills for a moment, one hand on the guitar, another running through her hair. Then she looks at me, all wide-eyed and bright and perfect.

"Happy."

**NOW**

I don't know why exactly I began playing football. Well, that's not entirely true. It was sophomore year and I was at that point in every teenager's high school career where they either go one of two paths: enviable popularity (complete with girls, parties, and fun) or relative obscurity (with Friday nights at home, study sessions, and a whole lot of nothing). Clearly, the choice was obvious.

And now, here I stand, on the field of Forks High, with college recruiters watching, three years later. Football is my ticket out of here.

"We can seriously not lose to these Camden assholes," Emmett grunts through his helmet, "I won't be able to show my face at school on Monday."

Camden, another small nothing town, is our biggest rival-solely because it's the closest town to Forks, not including the Reservation. We've already played them once before, losing horribly. It was an off-day for the entire team, we were all completely hungover from a party the night before. It was bad play after bad play, and Coach was pissed. Even I'll admit, it was an embarrassment to the school and we haven't lived it down since.

But now, here we are, once again. A second chance. The entire team is looking at me, waiting for my call. At first I hated being captain, hated the pressure and the expectations; now I love it, the power and control.

"Alright," I start.

With just a few seconds left in the game, we're down two points. The stands are packed with students, all hungry for revenge. I look out over all of them, the same people I've been going to school with since kindergarten. The same people I've seen, day in and day out for the past twelve years of my life. My parents, out there front and center, proudly wearing their blue and gold. My teachers, parents of my friends.

"Edward," Mike Newton says, bringing me back to focus.

I start to turn my head towards him when something off to the side of the field catches my attention. He's wearing a hat and seems to have aged dramatically since I last saw him, but there in the shadows is Charlie Swan. Our eyes lock; he has the same ones as Blue, not just in color but in lifelessness. Eyes that have seen too much, experienced more than they should ever of had to.

"Dude," it's Emmett this time.

I take one last long look at him, then bring my attention back to my teammates.

"Okay, let's do this," I begin, bringing the huddle in tight.

* * *

"That was so fucking awesome, I can't believe we pulled that off!" Emmett yells as we enter his house.

The party clearly started well before we got here, with the team having to stay back and shower. Emmett must've given someone the key and sent them ahead. Upon our arrival, everyone starts cheering and congratulating us on our victory. It was a once-in-a-lifetime play, with me getting the ball to Ben and him rushing 30 yards for a touchdown. We couldn't have put on a better show for the college recruiters than if it had been choreographed in one of those cheesy high school football movies.

"Someone get this man a beer!" Ben clamps his hands down on my shoulders.

I make it to the kitchen, somehow ending up with a beer in each hand. Victoria, Jessica, and the rest of cheerleaders stand grouped together, passing around a half-empty bottle of vodka.

"Congratulations, Mr. Quarterback," a girl's voice whispers into my ear.

I turn around, finding Alice changed out of her uniform.

"Thanks Al," I hand her one of my beers.

"For a while there I was worried I wouldn't be able to be seen with you anymore," she says, leaning back against the counter, "You were playing it pretty close to the wire, Cullen."

"I knew what I was doing the whole time," I reply, taking a long draw from my beer, "Just wanted to put on a show for the recruiters."

She laughs, rolling her eyes at me. I put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to me.

"Your groupies are glaring, Edward," she nods towards the rest of the cheerleaders, who are, indeed, staring over at us.

"Maybe we should make out or something, that'd really get them going," I respond, pulling her closer.

"Gross," she pulls away, "It'd be like making out with my brother… if I had a brother."

Although Alice and I are incredibly close friends, that's about as far as it goes. Neither of us has ever felt that attraction to the other. Our friendship, however, often gets Alice into a lot of shit with the other girls. Jealousy and all that other petty high school bullshit.

"Celebratory shots!" Ben yells from across the room, carrying a tray full of amber colored liquid.

"That better not be Jameson!" Alice yells back.

He winks at her, handing everyone he passes a shot. When he gets to us, there are only two left.

"Well, I guess that leaves me out," Alice smiles, thinking she's out of the red.

"Not so fast, these two are for you and me," Ben says, handing her a shot and taking the other for himself.

"What about Edward?" she asks, confused.

"I've got Edward's," a voice says behind Ben.

Victoria is standing there in a red tube dress type thing looking way too good than should be legally allowed. My Jameson shot, presumably, sits wedged between her cleavage.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Alice mutters under her breath, "I'm not watching this, I'll catch you guys later."

She heads over to a group of my teammates and a couple other guys I don't recognize.

"Bottoms up?" Ben has a shit-eating grin on his face.

When in Rome… I lower my head, capturing the shot and lingering longer than necessary. Hey, I'm a straight male with a pulse, so sue me.

"Nice," Ben cheers, reaching up to high-five me.

"So," Victoria starts.

But my gaze goes behind her, from blue eyes to brown. Those same lifeless eyes that I was looking into just hours before stare back at me, but this time they belong to another Swan. Her hair is curled, hanging loosely around her face. She, too, is wearing red, but with her pale skin and dark features, it's striking in another way entirely. She says nothing, just stares at me, into me.

"Hello?" Victoria waves her hand in front of my face, but I ignore her.

The look Ellie is giving me, it's one I recognize. It's the same look of disgust and disappointment she gave me when we were seven and Emmett and I made a clubhouse and told her she wasn't allowed in because she's a girl. It's the same look she gave me when we were eleven and I stole $20 from my mother's wallet. It's a look she once had a right to give me, but not anymore.

"You wanna go somewhere more private?" I ask Victoria.

She nods eagerly, of course, grabbing onto my arm. We walk towards the back deck and as we pass, I allow myself one more look in Ellie's direction. She is no longer looking at me, she is standing with James, who holds a syringe and a spoon and I know that can't be good.

"Come on," Victoria pulls me along.

It's two hours later when there's a scream. Two hours later when an ambulance shows up. Two hours later when they find Ellie passed out in a bathroom, with her eyes rolled back in her head.

* * *

Feedback is very much appreciated, thank you. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**THEN**

"… hurry, Carlisle…" my mother's voice wakes me from a deep sleep.

It's pitch black in my room and the clock reveals it's not yet 2 a.m. I hear my parents outside my door, hurrying down the hallway. There's silence and then a flurry of hushed whispers. I peel back the covers, the chill of the December air causes me to shiver. My feet make no sound on the carpet as I make my way towards the stairs.

"Bring her into the kitchen," my mother's voice carries up.

I scoot as close to the edge of the railing as possible, trying to avoid being found out. Down below, I see my mom and dad huddled around Bella and Mrs. Swan. They are coatless and freezing as mom hurries them into the kitchen.

"Come on, sweetie," mom kisses Blue's forehead, wrapping her arm around her shoulder.

Blue turns her head, giving my mom a small smile and that's when I see the bloody nose.

"Edward, son, go back to bed," dad says, having spotted me at the top of the steps.

"What happened?" I ask, confused and sleepy.

He makes his way up the stairs towards me, "Come on, we'll talk about it in the morning."

After walking me back to my room, he disappears into the darkness. I lie down, closing my eyes for what feels like a minute, but when I open them again, it's after four and Bella is lying in the bed next to me. She's curled into a ball and with the small beam of moonlight that shines through the curtain, she looks so much younger than her twelve years.

When I wake up next, it's light outside and Blue sits on the edge of the bed. Her chin rests atop her knees as she stares out the window. I sit up, causing her to look over in my direction.

"Morning," I say quietly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

She gives me a small smile before looking away, back out the window.

"It's snowing," her voice is low and ragged.

I move down the bed to sit next to her and she rests her head on my shoulder. I say nothing, knowing she'll talk when she's ready. An eternity passes before she finally speaks.

"It's not his fault, you know," she starts, "He just works so hard and he's tired."

She tells me that she got caught stealing from Brandon's Grocery. That Police Chief Harper brought her home. That her father got pissed and her mother tried to defend her. There was yelling and screaming and then hitting. And then running and cold and my house. Her voice waivers slightly as she tells me all of this, but she doesn't cry. She never cries.

There's just a bloody nose and her mother's black eye.

Later, when they are fed and warm, dad drives them back home. And as mom and I stand on the porch, watching the car drive off, I finally ask.

"Mom, what did Bella steal?"

I feel her tense up behind me, her hands on my shoulders.

"Bread," she replies softly.

**NOW**

"Come on, Edward," Alice is pulling on my arm, yelling over the commotion.

We're in total chaos; there are sirens going off somewhere close by and people running everywhere. Someone found Ellie in the upstairs bathroom, by herself and unconscious, and suddenly all hell broke loose.

"We have to get out of here before the cops show up," I can see her lips moving and hear her voice, but everything sounds and looks like it's in slow motion.

I'm being pushed towards the front door as everyone tries to escape.

"Someone help me please!" I hear Emmett yell from upstairs, where he has been left alone and responsible.

No one stays, everyone too afraid of the repercussions, the consequences.

"She's not breathing!" he yells.

"Edward, seriously," Alice yells, grabbing my face between her hands, "focus."

And with that, everything speeds back up to real time.

I take her hands from my face, holding them in mine, "Go, Alice."

"Edward?" she asks, confused.

"Go," I give her a little push before I turn and run up the steps to Emmett.

He is lying on the bathroom floor, Ellie's head in his lap. He looks up at me, scared shitless and suddenly sober.

"What do I do?" he asks.

I slide down to my knees, grabbing a towel from the rack to set her head on.

"Go downstairs, the ambulance will be here soon and they'll need to know where to come," I say, my voice not my own.

He nods, grateful to have someone telling him what to do. After he leaves, I straighten Ellie out. Her pulse is there, but it's faint and she isn't breathing. I immediately begin CPR, suddenly thankful for those first aid classes mom made me take at the Y.

With each chest compression, I can feel her ribs poking through and I'm terrified I'll break her. She is pale and tiny and underneath the fluorescent glow of the bathroom lights, as she lays there dying, she isn't the coked out junkie I see floating through the halls at school. She's my best friend, my first kiss, the girl who sat on her porch on her 15th birthday and broke my heart.

"She's up here," I hear Emmett coming up the steps.

Suddenly I'm pushed away and there are paramedics taking over, hooking up things and using big medical words I don't understand.

"I was doing CPR," I say to no one in particular.

One of the medics puts his hand on my shoulder, "You did a good job son, but we need you to wait outside now."

I stand outside on the porch with Emmett, who is having a minor panic attack.

"My parents are going to kill me," he is saying as he paces.

"It'll be fine," I say, knowing it doesn't sound anywhere near reassuring.

I don't know how long we're standing here before the medics come through the door with Ellie on a stretcher.

"Do either of you know how to reach her parents?" a medic asks.

"Her dad," I say, "her dad lives on the other side of the woods. But I don't think he's home."

The medic stands there, staring at me, like he's waiting for me to figure out what to do.

"We have to go, she needs to get to the hospital," someone yells from the truck.

I don't think, I jump into the back of the ambulance and sit next to Blue. The doors shut and I watch as Emmett gets smaller and smaller, as we get further and further.

"We're five minutes out," someone says into a radio.

Her eyes flutter open, but they are unclear and unfocused. She is looking around, her gaze going from face to face. When her eyes find mine, there is recognition and relief. She slowly reaches up with her tiny hand and grabs at the mask providing her with oxygen.

"Blue," I say, leaning in, "you can't, you need that."

She shakes her head, pulling at it. When she finally manages to push it down slightly, she licks her dried lips and attempts to speak.

"Miss, we need you to relax," one of the medics reaches out to put the mask back on her.

She swats his hand away and looks back over at me, her mouth moving but no sound coming out.

"Hold on, just one second," I tell him.

I lean in as close to her as I can, "What is it, Blue?"

She licks her lips again, wanting me to understand. Her mouth moves, repeating something over and over again.

"Kid, she really needs to have that oxygen mask on," the medic says, moving it back over her mouth.

She looks from him to me, to see if I understood her, and then her eyes close once more. We're pulling into the hospital, the red neon sign of the ER casts a bloody glow over us.

"What did she say?" a female medic, one I didn't notice until now, asks.

"Her mama," I reply, "She was asking for her mama."

* * *

Once we're inside the hospital, chaos ensues. Bella is being rushed away from me, there are sick people everywhere, and before I can even react, my father is standing in front of me.

"Edward," he says, concerned, "the call came in just as I got here, walk with me."

His arm is around my shoulder as we walk away from the madness. Everything is white and sterile and I'm finding it harder and harder to breathe.

"This way," he pulls me into an empty room.

He sits me on a bed and flicks on the lights.

"What happened?" he asks; he is not dad right now, he's doctor.

"We were all over at Emmett's, celebrating the win," I explain, "It was nothing, just some harmless drinking. And then there was screaming and she wasn't breathing."

I realize I'm not making any sense.

"Okay, Edward, calm down. Here's what's going to happen," he is calm and collected, everything I need right now. "You are going to go sit in the waiting room. Your mother tried to get a hold of Charlie but couldn't, so she's on her way here now. The police are going to have some questions and you are going to cooperate fully."

I nod, understanding now why Emmett seemed so relieved when I took charge earlier.

"Dad," I start, "there was a syringe and a spoon."

He already knows this, I can tell from the look in his eyes.

"Let's go, son."

My mother is already waiting for us. She sits, among the sick and sicker, hair out of place and biting her lip with worry. When she sees us enter, she jumps up and immediately pulls me into her arms.

"Oh god, I've been so worried," she whispers in my ear.

"I'm fine, mom," I reply.

She pulls me away, hands on my shoulders. It's clear from the look on her face that it isn't me she's been worried about.

"I'm going to go see what I can find out," Dad says, kissing mom's cheek before rushing off.

We sit in the corner, as far away from the noise and confusion as possible.

"I found Charlie," she says, staring ahead, "He was down at Walker's Pub, drunk out of his mind. He didn't even know who Bella was, let alone me."

I think of earlier, at the game, Charlie's face in the crowd.

"He just kept asking for Renee."

"They both did," I reply quietly.

We sit in silence waiting for news, any news. It's really late now, or really early, I don't know. By the time my father comes back, it's starting to get light outside and mom has fallen asleep on my shoulder. He walks us both passed the receptionist desk, through the ER doors, and into the ICU. No one has come for Bella and no one will.

"Before we go in there, I need to ask you a question," Dad says, stopping us right in front of the door, "How long?"

"How long what?" I ask.

He looks around, not wanting to be heard, "How long has Bella been using?"

I don't know what to say, how much trouble Bella could get in. How disappointed my parents would be in me if they knew it'd been going on for so long and I'd done nothing to stop it.

"This is the first time," I don't know why I lie, but I immediately feel like a coward.

I don't know if either of them believe me, but dad nods and opens the door.

"Can I have a minute?" I ask as we're all about to walk in.

"Of course," Mom answers, pulling my dad back into the hallway.

The door closes behind me as I slowly make my way towards the bed. She lies there, tubes sticking out everywhere. The room is dead silent with the exception of the beep beep beep.

"Hi," I say, knowing she can't hear me.

Little twig arms stick out of an oversized hospital gown. Pale and limp, they lie there unmoving. On the insides, there are marks, ones I've never seen. I step closer, turning them gently to get a better look. The tracks, those I expected, but what I didn't expect was the dozen or so little scars that run horizontally up and down her arms.

"What happened to you?" I ask quietly, "One minute, we were best friends and the next, it was like I never existed for you."

**THEN**

"I wish you didn't have to go away," Blue sits next to me on the porch swing outside my house.

She's barefoot, of course, wearing cut-off jean shorts and one of my old t-shirts. In the past year, her legs have gotten longer, her face has thinned out. And she has boobs.

I'm fourteen, I couldn't help but notice.

"It's just for the summer, Blue," I reply, swinging us slightly.

"I know, but I'll miss your birthday," she says.

I smile at her and play it cool, but deep down I'm sad that I won't get to spend the summer with her. The same way I've spent almost ten of my previous summers.

"You can call me, I gave you the number to my grandparents' house," I respond.

"Yeah, but it won't be the same," she whines and my smile grows bigger.

Mom is making me spend the summer with my grandpa and grandma in Chicago. Grandpa is sick and she wants me to help grandma take care of him. I had no say in the matter.

"I have something for you," I say, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a folded envelope.

I hand it to her and she looks at it, confused. She pauses, unsure, and then she slowly opens it. In it sits five one-hundred dollar bills. She gasps, mouth open. I know for a fact that she has never seen that much money before in her life.

"What is this?" she asks, still unable to take her eyes off the money.

"My parents gave me an early birthday present," I explain, "I want you to have it."

"I can't take this!" she practically throws the envelope at me.

I pick it up, pressing it back into her hand, "You can and you will. I want to make sure you're taken care of while I'm gone."

"I'm not your responsibility, I can take care of myself Edward," she says, always the stronger one.

"I know you can, I'm not saying that. I just… " I struggle, knowing I will have to come up with something good to get her to take the money.

"You just? You just what, Edward?" she spits, "I'm not your charity case."

She's insulted, which is exactly how I didn't want to make her feel.

"I care about you, Blue. And I know that the entire time I'm in Chicago, I'm going to worry about you—whether you like it or not. And I don't think you're my charity case, you're strong and independent and I know you can take care of yourself, I just…," I stutter again, "I just wish you'd let me help."

Her fury dissipates; a warm smile takes over her face. I know I've won.

"Alright I'll take it, but I'm not going to spend it," she relents, "And I'm giving it back when you get home in September."

"Agreed," I stick out my hand for her to shake, but instead, she pulls me into a hug.

"I have something for you too," she says into my ear as we continue to hug.

"What?" I ask.

She pulls away and looks at me, as if she's deciding something.

"What, Blue? You're weirding me out."

She smiles and just as I think she's about to say something, she leans in and presses her lips to mine. For two years now, I've been wondering what Blue's lips taste like. Mom says it's hormones and that I'm changing, but whatever it is, the need to kiss Bella has been overwhelming for quite some time now. She tastes like the strawberry chapstick my mom bought for her over Easter. We both pull away, catching our breath. Before I can say something, she is off the swing and running down my driveway.

"Bye Edward," she yells as she runs off.

I am left sitting here, very confused, but happy.

* * *

"Edward, your mother is on the phone for you," Grandma Cullen calls to me from the kitchen.

Grandpa and I are playing War in the dining room, just as we've done every day for the past month.

"Coming," I call back and then, to my grandpa, "You better not look at my cards, I'm watching you buddy."

He laughs as I hop off my chair and walk to the kitchen. Grandma is making homemade bread and the kitchen smells of dough and deliciousness.

"Hello?" I say into the receiver.

"Edward," and instantly, just based on her tone, I know that something is wrong.

"What is it?"

Silence.

"There's been a, uh," she pauses, thinking of what to say, "There's been an accident."

My stomach drops, "What kind of accident? Is dad okay?"

"Dad is fine," she reassures, "Sweetie, Bella's mom… she got really sick. She's been really sick for a while, actually, and something happened."

"What happened, mom?"

"Honey, Bella's mom passed away last night."

Silence.

"She's dead?" I ask, and grandma is instantly next to me.

"Yes Edward, she died."

"How? I don't understand?" I ask.

"Sometimes people get really sad, honey, and they just don't want to be sad anymore," her voice breaks at the end.

Everything is blurry and smudged and doesn't make sense.

"Did she have cancer or something?" I ask, not understanding.

"No, she didn't have cancer," she evades my question.

She's being cryptic and I don't understand.

"Maybe you should talk to Bella," she says, "I think you should talk with her."

"Okay, I'll call her," I respond.

"You should, she'll tell you in her own words," she sounds so completely unsure of herself.

But I don't call Blue. I never do. Because I'm fifteen and I'm scared and I don't know what it's like to lose your mama. And I know I'm letting her down, but I'm terrified.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**NOW**

Blue isn't in school on Monday or Tuesday. Rumors are spreading throughout the halls, like an infectious disease, carried from mouth to mouth. Overdose? Suicide attempt? Freak accident? No one knows, but give the people of Forks something to talk about and talk, they will; which is funny because talking is the exact opposite of what is taking place at my house, currently.

Mom is pissed at dad for letting them release Bella into her father's custody. I overheard them last night when they thought I was still at practice. Child services went by the house, but Bella isn't talking and Charlie managed to stay sober for twenty-four consecutive hours. I guess compared to some of the nightmare rural cases they come across, the Swans are a poster family for functional.

"I'm thinking of chopping off all my hair," Alice says out of nowhere.

I'm leaning against my car, it's cold and windy and I'm doing my best to shield myself from flying debris. Alice sits inside, in the driver's seat, staring at herself in the rearview window. I try my best to relight a joint, but to no avail.

"Maybe I'll dye it pink," she continues, ruffling her fingers through her hair.

I give up on the joint and shove it in my coat pocket.

"Or get a mohawk," she says.

"Alright," I finally say, "go ahead and ask."

"Ask?" she feigns confusion.

"Alice, really? All week you've been talking non-stop about your hair or your nails or tampons. You're torturing me on purpose with your menstruation talk. Just ask about Ellie, I know you've been dying to since Saturday."

She bites her lip, half-pissed about having been found out and half-excited at the chance to finally ask.

"Okay," she bursts, "was it really an overdose? Was there blood everywhere? How come you haven't told me anything? Did her dad really send her off to a mental institution?"

The wind stings my eyes as I think of what to say. I should really get in the car with her, or we could go into the diner we're parked outside of, but I like it out here. The cold makes me feel alive.

"It was just the result of too much partying," I say, lamely.

The looks she gives me, it says "nice try." It says, "you're lying." It says, "try again."

"I don't know, Alice," I'm exasperated, "It's none of our business. Ellie Swan is not my problem and she's certainly not yours."

"I know that, Edward, but you could at least just give me something," she pleads.

I roll my eyes, annoyed with her, with everyone.

"There was no blood, just a junkie and a needle and a whole lot of pathetic," I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes. I need a haircut, desperately.

This shuts _her_ up, but unfortunately, not everyone else.

* * *

I haven't walked through the woods to Blue's house in years. The path, once cleared and dirt-ladden, is now blocked with tall grass and rogue tree branches. I could've driven, I suppose, but walking this way just seemed like the poetic thing to do.

From the looks of it, it seems like the house gave up right along with Bella and her dad. Seeming more grey than blue, its shutters look wilted and its door, drooping. Mrs. Swan always planted flowers in the front, under the windows, but it looks like they died long ago. To my surprise, Bella sits on the porch, resting her chin on her hand as she looks out to somewhere I can't see. She's wearing a long skirt that hangs above bare feet, and a loose-fitting tank top. Her hair sits, piled atop her head in a messy bun. She's perpetually dressed for summer in a town where the sun rarely shines.

"It smells like rain," she says, as though we're already in the middle of a conversation.

I say nothing, watching as she lifts her hand revealing a cigarette I didn't notice. Three gold bracelets cover her wrist, and as she takes a drag, they jingle down her arm.

"Well, are you going to stand there all day staring, or did you come here for a particular reason?" she asks, not mad, just bored.

I pull my jacket closer around me as the wind picks up. I want to tell her she should cover up, but I'm not her father. Hell, I'm not even her friend.

"Mom wanted me to check on you," I explain, annoyed. It's not like I chose to come here of my own free will and I don't want her thinking anything of the sort.

She gives me a once-over, taking in my Top Siders, my expensive jeans, my North Face. Things she would never even dream of wearing. Her disgust and disapproval are hidden only by the smoke that surrounds her. She says so much without saying anything at all.

"I'm alive," she responds, finally.

Another drag, her bracelets jingle jingle jingle.

"Okay," I shrug, turning to leave.

But I hear my mother's voice, I hear Bella's mother's voice. She has no one, her own father an alcoholic absentee who checked out long ago. So I stop. I turn. I sit next to her.

"Whose car?" I ask, referring to the old Jetta parked in the driveway. I don't know why I ask, but I have to say something.

"Rosalie's," she answers, stubbing out her cigarette. She doesn't explain further.

I nod, because I don't know what else to do. She pulls another cigarette from the pack next to her, offering me one. I take it, figuring it'll give me something to do with my hands.

"Where's your dad?" I ask, and immediately hate myself for having done so.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she replies. Jingle jingle.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a habitual gesture that reminds me of the girl I once knew. I want to shake her, to wake her up out of this coma she's been in for the last three years.

"What are you doing, Bella?"

"Sitting here with you," she deadpans.

"You know what I mean," I roll the cigarette between my fingers, "The drugs. I get that you want to have a good time, who doesn't? But a good time shouldn't have you ending up in the emergency room with a tube shoved down your throat."

"A good time?" she laughs, "That's what you think I'm after?"

"I don't know," I pause, "I don't know who you are anymore or what you're doing. We haven't spoken in years and suddenly I'm giving you CPR on the bathroom floor of Emmett McCarty's upstairs bathroom."

"No one asked you to care, Edward," her voice is cool, calm, collected. It pisses me off.

"I don't care!" I shout, angry.

"Good."

I take a second, pulling myself together, knowing I'm getting too worked up. I turn so I'm actually facing her, hoping I'll somehow get through.

"Your mom would be so disappointed in you," I go for the gut.

The slap across my face comes before I can see it. Then she stands up. Then she slams the door. Then she's gone.

Bringing up her mother was a cheap shot, I'll admit, but at least it elicited some type of reaction out of her. It gives me hope; hope that there's still a bit of Blue in there that the drugs haven't destroyed. Not yet, anyway.

**THEN**

"Just tell me where we're going?" I plead with her, tired of walking.

She sighs, but doesn't speak, just grabs my hand and pulls me to continue on. We've been walking for what feels like miles and my feet are starting to hurt.

"Blue, my mom is gonna get mad if I'm not home before dark," I say, playing the "mom" card.

"It's just right up here," she says, "and besides, I told you that you didn't have to come. You're the one who insisted."

Well, she's got me there.

"Why are we going to the bakery?" I ask when we stop in front of Bonnie's Café.

"We're not," she says, then disappears down the back alley.

I waiver on what to do at this point, but my feet are walking in her direction before I realize what I'm doing and it occurs to me that she probably knew I'd follow her. I'll always follow her.

"Blue!" I whisper-yell as I walk into the shadowed alley.

I find her digging through what appears to be a trash can and for a moment, I'm completely appalled.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, utterly confused.

"Shh," she whispers.

I watch as she digs through the can, eventually pulling out a plastic black bag. She holds it up for me to see, a smile of victory upon her face.

"It's the day-olds," she explains.

"The what?"

"The day-olds," she repeats, like it's common sense, "The pastries they don't sell. They just throw them out at the end of the day."

She opens the bag and begins rummaging through it. She pulls out a round glazed donut and holds it out for me.

"No thank you," my voice laced with disgust.

"Your loss," she shrugs, taking a big bite out of it before continuing to look through her findings, "Ooo, a bear claw! Daddy is going to be happy."

Her tone is so content, so fulfilled to somehow be providing for her family in a way that an eleven-year old shouldn't have to. And it's here, in this dark alley, with Blue eating a dumpster donut, that I finally understand what poverty is.

"Oh I could hide beneath the wings of the blue bird as she sings, the six o'clock alarm would never ring," Bella sings as she skips along, the bag of pastries happily tossed over her shoulder, "But it rings, and I rise, wipe the sleep out of my eyes… "

She stops when she realizes I'm lagging behind, "Come on, Edward."

I run to catch up, but my mind is still trying to process everything. I don't understand how she can be so cheerful and skipping and singing when just minutes ago, she was digging through a trash can so she won't have to go to sleep hungry tonight.

"Cheer up sleepy Jean," her raspy voice continues as she smiles over at me, "I know you know the words, Edward Cullen."

"Oh what could it mean to a daydream believer and a Homecoming Queen?" I finish, my singing voice atrocious.

She throws her arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer as we make our way home.

"Oh, our good time starts and ends without dollar one to spend. But how much, baby, do we really need?" we're yelling now and people on the street are staring and smiling at us.

"Blue?"

"Yeah?" she asks, her cheeks are pink with laughter.

"I think I will have a donut."

We get back to her house just as the sun is setting, with the crickets chirping in the humid August air. We walk up the porch and into the house. Mr. and Mrs. Swan are in the kitchen, whispering to each other and exchanging kisses. It's the first time I've ever really seen them together, caught unaware, and it feels like we're walking in on an incredibly private moment.

"Honey, I'm home!" Blue yells obliviously, setting the trash bag on the table.

"Where are your shoes?" Mrs. Swan asks (it's usually the first thing she always asks).

"Over there," she points to the corner, where her room is curtained off, "I think."

We all laugh, because that's what Blue does, she makes people laugh.

"What's in the bag, Blue Bear?" her dad asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer.

"Day-olds!" she says proudly.

Her father cheers and if I didn't happen to look over at her mother, I would join in. Mrs. Swan looks from the bag to me and then to Bella. The look on her face is the same one mom had when I was eight and told my teacher that I caught my parents naked wrestling; pure mortification.

"Isabella," her voice is cold and venomous.

And with that one word, the mood of the room completely changes.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to dig through the trash?" she asks, her eyes darting to me.

"But look," Blue sifts through the bag, pulling out a pastry, "I brought daddy a bear claw."

"Ooo, a bear claw?" her dad says, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"We're not savages," Mrs. Swan grabs the donut out of her hand, throwing it into the bag, and the bag into the trash, "My daughter shouldn't have to eat food out of a dumpster."

"Renee," Mr. Swan starts.

"Edward, I think you should go home," Bella cuts him off. The pink is gone from her cheeks, the laughter ended.

"Yeah, okay," I stutter, turning to leave.

Mrs. Swan follows me out and I think it's to make sure I get to the woods clearing safely, but as I'm stepping off the porch, she speaks, "Edward?"

I turn, stiff and uneasy.

"Please don't tell your mother about the donuts," she pleads more than states.

And she looks at me, not as an adult looking down on a child, but as one person to another, looking for kindness.

"Of course, Mrs. Swan."

**NOW**

Walking into my house, I hear what sounds like a woman sobbing.

"Mom?" I call out.

With no response, I follow the noise into my father's study. There she sits, behind the desk, back to me. She is looking out the window to the backyard, towards the woods, her shoulders shaking with each sob. She's clutching what appears to be a piece of notebook paper with words on it I can't read.

"Mom?"

She jumps, startled, and turns the chair towards me.

"Edward, you scared me," she wipes tears away, "I was just about to start dinner."

She folds the paper, putting it into a desk drawer, and stands. She's acting weird and un-momlike.

"Everything okay?" I ask, worried.

"Yeah, of course," she says, smiling, "I was just thinking of your grandma."

Her own mother, who passed away a few years ago. I don't know why she's lying, she's definitely hiding something.

"Come on, let's go figure out what we're going to eat," she puts her hand reassuringly on my shoulder before exiting the room.

I go to leave when something stops me. I go around the desk, opening the drawer and pulling out the letter my mother put away moments earlier. I slowly unfold it, afraid my mother will come back in.

_Esme,_

_Take care of my Blue._

_Renee_

I read and reread it several times, not understanding what I'm looking at. The only thing I know of Renee's death was that it was sudden and unexpected—which is why this note makes no sense. How would she have known to write a letter?

My mother refused to tell me what happened exactly, repeatedly telling me that it wasn't her place and to talk to Blue. My father, the same thing. By the time I got home that summer, Bella hated me, so talking to her was out of the question. Kids at school said that Charlie killed her, that she fell and cracked her skull, that she was hit by a drunk driver. The first two months of school that year were spent with continuous rumors of Bella's mother's death before, finally, a junior girl got pregnant and took all the attention away.

"Edward?" mom calls from the kitchen.

"Coming!" I slip the note back into the desk, leaving more confused than when I came in.

* * *

Friday afternoons, on non-game days, are typically spent at the diner. All the kids from school pop in and out at some point, eating and exchanging plans on how they're going to get fucked up that night. This non-game day Friday is no exception.

"Well, what's Emmett doing?" Ben asks, popping a fry into his mouth.

We're sitting in the back booth, the same booth we sit in every time we're here.

"He's like, grounded for the next fifty years," Alice says, "His parents weren't too happy that he threw a party and then someone OD'd and passed out on his mother's guest towels."

"Alice," I warn.

"What?" she asks, annoyed," Since when are you so concerned with Ellie Swan?"

"I'm not."

"Could've fooled me," she replies, sipping on her Coke.

I roll my eyes, sitting back in the booth and crossing my arms over my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Victoria approaching the booth. She slides in next to me, practically sitting in my lap.

"Hey Eddie," she smiles, completely ignoring Ben and Alice.

"Hey," I reply, moving my arm to the back of the booth.

"So I'm having some people over tonight," she smells like vanilla, "My cousin is transferring in and we're having a little welcome party."

"Who's your cousin?" Ben asks.

She looks at them, like she's just now realizing they're here.

"His name's Jasper, he's from Houston. He got into some trouble back home, so his parents shipped him off to boring old Forks to teach him a lesson," she explains.

"God, what a perfect punishment," Alice remarks.

"Anyway, my place, anytime after nine," she runs her fingers through my hair, giving it a little tug.

"Could she be any more obvious?"Alice says after she walks away.

I laugh. It's true, but I'm not complaining. It's been a few weeks since I've fucked anyone, and with everything going on, I need a release. Victoria is always good for a few rounds.

"Whatever, at least we have something to do tonight," Ben says, mouth full.

"Maybe we'll get another viewing of Intervention from Little Miss Blow over there," she nods her head in the direction behind me.

I turn in my seat, seeing Ellie and Rosalie sitting at the counter. To my surprise, a guitar sits propped against Ellie's leg. I had no idea she still played. It's covered in stickers, some I recognize, others I don't. She's had that same guitar since we were thirteen and her mother surprised her with it for Christmas. When Renee gave it to her, I remember thinking that I'd never seen someone so excited to give a present before in my life. I'm ashamed to admit, I also couldn't stop thinking of how she'd been able to afford it.

Ben and Alice start discussing this evening's plans as I sneak glances over at Blue to see if she'll even acknowledge my existence. I feel like saving someone's life at least warrants a hello. Unsurprisingly, she says nothing to me. Unsurprisingly, she takes a bag of white powder from Rose and puts it in her pocket.

And I wonder if she'll die before her habit does.

* * *

Thank you so much for all of your kind words and reviews, they're very much appreciated. Let me know what you think of this one. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

**THEN**

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The sound flows from my dream to reality as I wake. The room is pitch black, the clock reads 12:04 a.m.

Plink. Plink.

Despite the haze cast over my brain from being awoken so suddenly, I realize it's coming from outside. I push back my covers, yawning as sleep threatens to pull me back under.

Plink.

I pull the curtains open, looking out the window and into the backyard to see what is causing the incessant disturbance. I see nothing, only grass and pond and moon. I'm about to release the curtain when I hear another plink. This time, I look directly below the window, down to the rose bushes mom planted last spring. There stands Blue, long t-shirt, barefoot. She says nothing, just looks at me with those seen-too-much eyes.

I hurry down the stairs, to the kitchen door that leads outside. She's waiting, her arms wrapped around herself. She walks in, passed me, and I follow behind her, back up to my room. No words are spoken, she just climbs into my bed and curls into a ball. I shut the door behind us, lying in bed beside her, confused and still half-asleep.

"Blue?" I ask tentatively.

She doesn't reply and for a moment, I think she's already fallen asleep. Then I see her shoulders shaking uncontrollably and I'm hit with the realization that, for the first time in the eight years that I've known her, Bella is crying. In lieu of a response, I do the only thing that feels right: I put my arm around her, pulling her back close to my chest and I let her cry for all the times before that she never could.

**NOW**

"Hello Victoria's cousin," Alice practically purrs as we enter the house.

There's a tall, lanky kid with floppy blonde hair standing next to Victoria; both are holding a cup of something looks like water but I can guarantee it's not.

"Gross, Al," I reply, shuddering at the thought of her with a boy.

"What? I have needs too. Despite what you think, I am actually a woman and I do actually feel attraction towards members of the opposite sex," she responds, "Present company excluded, of course."

"Hey!" Ben yells, offended.

I laugh, shrugging off my jacket. Victoria's house has always reminded me of a museum. Everything is so pristine and in a specific place, I'm afraid to touch anything for fear of throwing the entire room off balance.

"Edward!" I hear someone yell before I'm being physically mauled by legs and arms.

I stumble, catching myself before I hit the wall. Victoria has launched herself at me, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist. Clearly, she's been drinking for a while.

"Jesus," I hear Alice mutter.

"It's about time you got here," she kisses my cheek before sliding back down to her feet, "Come meet my cousin."

She pulls me by the arm to where the floppy-haired kid stands. Alice and Ben follow behind.

"Jasper, this is Edward, the guy I was telling you about," she smiles and I don't want to know what she's told him about me.

"Pleasure," Jasper holds out his hand for me to shake.

"Hey man," I reply, shaking it, "These are my friends Ben and Alice."

Before I know it, three hours have passed and everyone has gotten progressively drunker and louder. Alice made her move on Jasper about an hour ago and the two have been sucking face in the corner ever since. Ben sits next to me, trying to explain to a group of people why Bon Jovi is the greatest musician ever. I'm about to interject my opinion when there's a loud slamming noise in the foyer. Everyone turns to see Rosalie Hale, wide-eyed and a complete mess. Her eyes bounce around the room and before they even have a chance to stop on someone, I know it's me she's looking for.

"Edward," she says, her voice choked up.

Rose being here can only mean one thing: something happened to Blue.

Everyone's attention is piqued; Rose and I aren't exactly the best of friends and she has no reason to be looking for me. I stand, ignoring Ben's questions, and walk to her. I take a hold of her arm and pull her outside, away from prying eyes.

"Where is she?" I ask immediately.

She is practically hyperventilating and I place my hands on either side of her face, willing her to breath.

"Rose, I need you to calm down."

She nods, taking a moment to pull it together. I can't tell if she's genuinely freaked out or if she's just having a really bad trip. Her bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils tell me it's probably a combination of the two.

"She's gone," she manages to get out.

"Bella's gone? She's gone where?" I ask.

She takes a deep breath, swallowing down her panic.

"She went with him," is all she says.

"Who?" I have to fight not to shake her, "Went with who?"

"Riley," she says.

I'm confused, not exactly understanding what she's saying or who Riley is.

"They went to Seattle, I tried to stop her but she was so fucked up, I don't know if she realized what she was doing. I don't want her to get in anymore trouble," her voice is full of guilt and desperation.

"Why did they go to Seattle?"

"I don't know," she sobs, "Riley had this new drug he wanted us to try. I refused, because he's a dick and I figured he was trying to dose us. But Ellie, she took hers _and_ mine. I swear, I turned my back for a second and when I came back, they were gone. James told me they went to Seattle."

"Okay," I reply, trying to process everything, "Who exactly is Riley?"

"He's James' dealer," she explains, "He's an ass, always trying to cop a feel or get in our pants. She would never go anywhere with him if she was in her right state of mind. He put something in those pills."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to think. Neither of us are in any position to drive, despite the fact that she probably drove here anyway. There's only one person who I know for a fact is sober and who I trust enough to keep this all on the down-low.

"Hold on," I tell her, pulling out my phone.

"If you called just to gloat about how much fun you're having, I will sneak out there just to kick your ass," Emmett's voice flows through the receiver.

"Emmett, I need your help," I say, getting right to the point.

"What's up, man?" he asks, picking up on my distress straight away.

"I need you to pick me up right now, it's an emergency. I'll explain when you get here," I glance over at Rose, who has sat down and put her head between her knees.

"Give me five minutes," and he hangs up. I knew I could count on him.

I sit down next to Rose, not sure how to comfort her.

"We need to find out where in Seattle they went," I say, instead.

"James will know," she says, her head still down.

I scroll through my contact list, landing on his name. I've only ever called his number once before, last year, right before playoffs. I was desperate for something to take the edge off and James was always good for a guaranteed fix. Other than that, I've always just gotten what I need from him at parties.

"Yeah?" he answers, no hello.

"It's Cullen," I reply, "I need to know where your friend Riley is taking Ellie Swan."

There's silence on the other end and I can imagine his total surprise at, not only me calling him, but also for my demand.

"Whoa, dude, slow down," he laughs, "Chill."

"I don't have time to chill, I need to know where he's taking her."

He takes a deep breath and I imagine he's inhaling a cigarette or a joint, "I can't really disclose that information."

"Cut the bullshit, James," I spit, "You know that fucker dosed her."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, angry now, "And I certainly don't appreciate you calling me and making accusations."

I take my own deep breath, knowing I need to calm down if I'm going to get the information out of him.

"Listen, James," I plead, "You know Ellie is going through some shit right now, she doesn't need this. Just give me an address, I'll never mention your name or how I found out."

He doesn't respond and my stomach drops. Rose grabs the phone from my hand before I can say anything else.

"James, it's Rosalie," her voice is cool and even, "Give me that fucking address or I'll come there and rip your goddamn balls off."

I'm so shocked, I don't know whether to laugh or be horrified over the thought of any man having his balls ripped off.

"Thanks," she says, then hangs up the phone, "I'm coming with you."

"What? No, you're in no condition," I reply.

"I'm the one who knows the address," she says.

Well, she has me there.

Emmett comes screeching down the driveway, halting to a stop directly in front of us. He pokes his head out the window, taking in the scene of me and Rose. I'm sure he's just as confused as I am.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"Seattle."

He nods, asking no more questions. Rose and I get in and Em immediately takes off. We're on the road for about an hour before he finally speaks. Rose is passed out in the backseat and the only sound between the three of us is her quiet breathing.

"Bella?"

I jump slightly, startled by his voice.

"What?" I ask.

"This is about Bella, isn't it? Or Ellie, rather," his eyes don't waiver from the road ahead of us.

I don't say anything, which says everything.

"God, she's so fucked up," he says quietly.

"Em," I warn.

"What?" he looks at me briefly before turning back to the road, "We both grew up with the Swans, Edward, they weren't exactly the poster family for stability. They were poor as shit. Her dad's an abusive alcoholic and her mom off-ed herself. Bella never had a chance."

I freeze.

"What?"

"Come on, she was set up to become a junkie," he responds.

"No, not that. What about her mom?" I turn in my seat so I'm facing him.

"You know," he says, then makes a slashing gesture across his wrist.

"No, I don't know."

His brows are furrowed in confusion, "How do you not know?"

"How do _you_ know?" my head is pounding suddenly, like my buzz went straight into a hangover within seconds.

"Edward, are you being serious right now?" he asks, disbelieving.

"Yes," I hiss, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Jesus," he mutters under his breath, rubbing his hand over her face, "You really don't know."

I sit, waiting anxiously for him to continue, fighting the urge to force it out of him.

"What exactly do you think happened to Mrs. Swan?"

"My mom told me there was an accident," I explain, "She told me to talk to Bella so she could tell me in her own words."

"And did you?" he asks.

"No," I admit, shamefully, "I didn't know what to say. I was fifteen."

As if that makes everything okay.

"How have you not known this whole time? Like, what level of self-delusion have you been living in?" there's no humor in his voice.

"Don't be a dick, man," I bark, staring out the window.

"I'm not trying to be a dick, I just don't get it. You two were inseparable until sophomore year when you suddenly stopped…" he stammers off, "Ooooh, it makes sense now."

"Emmett," I say, trying to get him back on focus.

"My mom told me right after it happened, but then she never spoke of it again. I asked her a question once and she just said, 'we don't talk about that.' Like it never happened," he shakes his head.

"The paper said she died suddenly," I tell him, remembering when I looked up the obituary online.

"She slit her wrists, man," he replies evenly, "Bella found her in the bathroom."

My heart drops so low I think it's going to be permanently lodged in my stomach.

"What?" I don't believe him.

"Your mom and my mom were at your house, sitting on the back deck. Bella came out of the woods covered in blood," he swallows hard, "They went back to the Swan house. She was in the bathtub."

Someone makes a noise of pure anguish and for a moment, I think Rosalie woke up before I realize it was me.

"They couldn't find Charlie," he continues, "He never came back the night before. Mom said Bella sat in that bathroom, in her mother's blood, for hours, waiting for him to come home."

There's a few minutes of silence as I process everything. I don't even know what to think, what to feel.

"I mean, I know our moms covered up a lot of shit. Your dad took care of some stuff at the hospital, they didn't want it getting around what happened, for Bella's sake," he says, "You know, this being Forks and all, she'd never live that down. Her life is fucked up enough without having that horror story attached to it."

"She never said anything," I say so low I can barely hear myself.

"What?" he asks.

"She never told me," I repeat, louder this time.

"Not to be an ass, man, but can you really blame her? You never called," he says, suddenly sounding more adult and mature than I've ever known him to be.

We make it to Seattle a little after four. I wake up Rose when we get close, not wanting to miss an exit or a turn. She reads us directions off her phone's GPS. It takes us to an apartment complex near the docks. We get out of the car and the only sound is that of a boat's horn somewhere in the distance.

"Wait up, Edward!" I hear Emmett call after me, but I'm already heading towards the apartment number Rose told me.

I lean against the door, trying to make out anything from the inside that I can. I hear nothing at first, but then what sounds like a girl's voice, moaning. I shove my shoulder at the door, trying to break it open.

"Edward!" Rose yells from behind me.

I ignore her, trying once again to bust it open. Emmett puts his hand on my shoulder, pushing me aside, then throws his body full-force at the door. It gives under the pressure of his weight. I rush passed him, trying to find the source of the noise I heard. I'm opening every door I come to, screaming Blue's name. Finally, at the end of the hallway, I find his bedroom.

"What the fuck, man?" a tall blonde haired kid asks, standing at the foot of the bed.

He's in jeans, but no shirt. I look around him to see Bella, lying on the bed wearing nothing but her pants and a bra. She is half-asleep, trying to get up but failing miserably.

"Riley?" I ask, he nods, "Did you touch her?"

"That's none of your business," he laughs, turning his back on me.

I grab his shoulder, spinning him around and before I realize what I'm doing, my fist slams into his face. He falls to the ground, his hand going to his nose where blood is pouring out.

"Ed, man," Emmett comes up behind me, trying to reign me back in.

"Did you fucking touch her?" I ask again, kicking him in the side. Rose screams at me, horrified.

"No," he groans, his voice decidedly less confident.

I lift my leg again to kick when Bella's voice stops me.

"Edward?" she asks, confused and so very out of it.

I stop, looking over at her. She is so messed up, hair out of place and body covered in bruises. Rose walks over, picking her shirt up off the floor and helping her back into it.

"Can you walk?" Rose asks her, trying to get her up.

She says something that none of us can make out and her head rolls to the side, eyes closed.

"I'll get her," I say, stepping over Riley.

I slide my hands under her neck and legs and pick her up. She is limp and lifeless in my arms.

"That bitch wanted it, she was practically begging for it," Riley yells, still on the floor.

I make a move to set Bella down so I can kick his ass, but Emmett shakes his head.

"Go to the car, I'll take care of this," he says.

Blue lies in the backseat, head in Rosalie's lap as we head back to Forks. I don't ask Emmett what he said or did to Riley and he doesn't tell me.

**THEN**

I set all of my bags down on my bed, happy to finally be home. My flight was delayed and it took five hours longer than expected. I smell like airplane food.

"Honey, why don't you leave this," mom says from the doorway, "I'll unpack and do your laundry, go over to Blue's."

I cringe, thankful that my back is to her so she can't see. She doesn't know I never called Blue over the summer. She just assumed I did, then kept repeatedly asking me if I wanted to talk about it. I tell her not now and wonder how long I can keep it up.

"I'll go over later, I want to take a shower," I reply, hoping she'll drop it.

"No," she says, "Go. Now."

I look over at her and the look on her face says discussion over. It says leave now. It says go see your best friend whose mama just died.

"Alright," I mutter, dragging my feet passed her, the dread building in the pit of my stomach.

I walk through the woods, taking the same path I've taken to Blue's house for years and years. It seems different now, though. Quieter. Dimmer. I see her before she sees me. Sitting alone on her porch, she's barefoot like always, but she's not my Isabella Blue. Dark circles hang under her eyes. Her arms are sticks, poking out of a too-big shirt. And there, in my Blue's perfect mouth, is a cigarette. A disgusting, nasty cigarette.

"Happy birthday," I say in a voice that's not my own.

She says nothing, just looks passed me. I feel awkward and uncomfortable, something I've never felt around Blue before. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, rising to her feet as she does. Then, so quickly that I'm not sure it's even happening, she flicks the cigarette towards me. It lands right in front of me, missing my shoe by an inch. I look up at her, shocked and disbelieving.

"Go fuck yourself, Edward," and then she's gone.

* * *

Feedback and reviews are always appreciated. :)


	7. Author's Note

Hey everyone! Wow, thank you so much for all of your reviews, PMs, and responses. I also found out I've been nominated at The Lemonade Stand for Blue, Lovely. My computer actually crashed about 2 months ago and I haven't replaced it yet but am doing so next week. So please stay tuned for updates and I appreciate your patience. Thank you again!


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